Darcy and the Zombie attack!
by WriterSherry
Summary: In my own twisted, fun version of Pride and Prejudice, my romantic tale has Mr. Darcy as a zombie hunter, and the walking dead are roaming the countryside. But these aren't your average zombies. No, these walking dead are intelligent and hungry, they've descended upon England.
1. Chapter 1

In my own twisted, fun version of _Pride and Prejudice_, my romantic tale has Mr. Darcy as a zombie hunter, and the walking dead are roaming the countryside. But these aren't your average zombies. No, these walking dead are intelligent and hungry, they've descended upon England.

"_It's a _**_truth universally acknowledged that a zombie_**_ in possession of brains must be in want of more brains."_

**Part One**

The ball was in full progress by the time the Bennets arrived in their carriage. They said polite hellos to their host, and then Mrs. Bennet searched the room for Mr. Bingley. As soon as she spotted him, she inquired about his party.

"Who is that with Mr. Bingley?" Mrs. Bennet asked Lady Lucas.

"On the left is his sister, Caroline Bingley and—"

"No, no! The gentlemen with the quizzical brow? He looks familiar."

"That is his closest friend, Mr. Darcy, of course," Lady Lucas replied.

"The man looks positively bored, looking down his nose at everyone!"

"He may do as he pleases. Darcy receives a clear ten thousand per year, and he's a notorious zombie hunter!"

Within the high-ceiling room near Mr. Bingley stood a man wearing a fitted, black tailcoat, over a cream-colored shirt, with a silken cravat around his neck. From his profile, Elizabeth could tell he had dark hair and attractive features. He seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him, certainly not from this angle.

When the man finally turned, the full view of his face—especially the piercing brown eyes that fixed on Elizabeth—confirmed her estimation of the handsome man she'd heard so much about. Twenty-eight years old and unmarried, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was the wealthy owner of Pemberley in Derbyshire. His bold gaze caused Elizabeth's lungs to seize mid-inhale, her breathing already confined by the corset, but now it felt as if all the oxygen had been swept from the room. Elizabeth's heart slammed inexplicably against her ribcage.

Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands. "Oh! Well, Mr. Darcy shall do for one of my girls! Petulant or not. We must meet him at once!"

Elizabeth tried not to roll her eyes. She and Jane exchanged a look of embarrassment as Mrs. Bennet marched her daughters straight over to Mr. Bingley's party.

"How good of you to come," Mr. Bingley said.

"Mr. Bingley, may I introduce you to my daughters?" Mrs. Bennet asked excitedly. "This is my eldest, Miss Jane Bennett, and this is my other daughter, Miss Elizabeth."

Mr. Bingley had smiles for everyone, but his eyes lingered on Jane in her ruffled dress, which matched the color of her cornflower blue eyes. "How nice to make your acquaintance at last!"

"The pleasure, I can assure you is all ours, sir," Mrs. Bennet cried.

Mr. Bingley bowed at the waist. "I'm delighted to meet you." He straightened and gestured to the man next to him. " And may I introduce my good friend, Mr. Darcy, the legendary zombie hunter."

_Ah! That's why he looks so familiar, _Elizabeth thought.

Mr. Darcy nodded a courteous greeting, although it seemed he gazed at them with smug condescension. Elizabeth smoothed her light-green, silk gown, which fell in diaphanous pleats from under her bosom to the tips of her shoes. In the mirrors lining the walls, her figure appeared slender, her flood of chestnut brown hair shiny, and her delicate oval face flushed. She lifted her proud chin.

"How do you like it here in Hertfordshire?" Jane asked Mr. Bingley.

"Oh, presently, I'm enjoying it much more. But the walking dead do put a damper on things."

"I agree," Elizabeth said. "The zombies are vicious creatures. Without souls or reasoning. Their only focus is eating the living's brains."

"It's good thing my friend, Darcy can fight them." Bingley grinned, his cerulean eyes twinkling as he leaned closer to Jane.

A loud clamor in the surrounding trees made Elizabeth stiffen. A chill ran down her spine. _Walking dead?_ _Zombies on a deadly stroll, seeking human brains to devour? _The cold wind sweeping through the vast room told its own ghost stories. Elizabeth shuddered, but kept a vigilant eye on the grounds outside.

She sensed something horrific was about to happen.

Elizabeth peeked at Mr. Darcy, but he pretended to watch the dancers, his chin held high. Then, curiously, Darcy's dark eyes narrowed on something in the night that she couldn't see beyond the open terrace doors.

"Come, Darcy," said Bingley smiling. "You'd have a much better time if you danced."

"You know how I detest it, unless I'm already acquainted with my partner." Darcy's brows drew together in a frown as he nodded toward the other guests, his voice firm and final. "Furthermore, it is my duty to guard the innocuous country people from the walking dead, and I cannot very well do that if I'm preoccupied by dancing, dear friend." Mr. Darcy stood tall and erect, yawning into a fist.

Mr. Bingley sighed and asked, "Are you having a good time, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Bingley." Elizabeth tilted her dark head to the side and pretended to pout. "Though the zombie outbreak has dampened my spirits, too."

Bingley lips went from a smile to a frown. "Have you heard that once you've been bitten by the walking dead, the infection spreads rather quickly? Anyone thought to be infected must be stabbed in the head immediately."

Elizabeth already knew that the undead humans were reanimated by an untreatable virus. The zombies lacked intelligence and were only motivated by the raging desire to ingest living brains. Ironically, the only way to destroy them was to destroy the brain.

Elizabeth nodded, sickened at the thought of anyone she loved becoming infected.

Bingley droned on about the dangers of the zombie bite, with Jane hanging on his every word, and while Elizabeth and Darcy politely listened.

Lifting her head, Elizabeth's gaze fell upon Darcy, startled to discover that he was staring at her. Not just starting, but really looking at her for the first time. His long stare made her fidget, although a force she didn't understand made her stare back at him imploringly. Some unfathomable force held her there—immobile. Her face 's legs trembled. Then, slowly, his eyes grew darker, defeated, and she felt the wild leap of her own heart when he slowly stretched out one hand.

Then a horde of zombies barged in through the terrace doors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Elizabeth coughed and choked on the horrid smell that greeted her. The stench of rot and decay, combined with the unique odor of graveyard dirt filled the air. Dogs barked a warning in the distant.

The tattered, stained clothing of the walking dead rustled. Their feet dragged, and they loudly groaned. Nothing else concerned with stealth made those sounds.

A cold wave swept into her, chilling the warm night air. The first zombie came into sight, swaying drunkenly, unsteady on its legs, its joints stiff. But for all its clumsy motions, it moved swiftly and with deadly purpose.

As it stumbled a few feet into the open, another zombie followed behind. The second zombie's mouth twitched and drool leaked from one side. The smell of rotting flesh made Elizabeth's stomach churn. Its gross, discolored skin close was deteriorating. It was peeling from muscle and bones. They were both blank eyed, with torn and bloody clothing, missing pieces of skin and limbs. Another zombie shambled into the moonlight.

_I shouldn't have expected anything less than a full zombie invasion…_

Killing all the zombies would be difficult, if not impossible. A steadily growing panic caused her chest to tighten, and her breathing increased. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths, trying to steady herself and prepare to do battle.

Out of nowhere, Darcy appeared, and broke into a sprint. The first zombie never saw him coming. Darcy charged at the zombie, hitting him like a raging bull at full speed and they soared across the room forcing the zombie backward into the mirrored wall. Glass splintered and broke into pieces from the impact.

The zombie's eyes glowed with a reddish tint, its mouth stained with blood. The zombie had been caught off guard initially, but now it eyed Darcy hungrily.

"Stand back, ladies," Darcy ordered.

The guests screamed and ran into other rooms. Only Jane, Elizabeth, Darcy, and Bingley remained. Jane pulled a large knife from her bag, and thrust it into Elizabeth's hands. "Take care, dear sister."

At first all Elizabeth could do was watch while the two zombies circled their victim—_Darcy_.

Elizabeth approached the zombies, her footsteps soundless. Curling her fingers around the dagger's handle, she dashed forward, and plunged the blade into the forehead of the slobbering zombie on her left. Quick and efficient. It screeched and tried to grab at the dagger wedged into its brain. However, the blade had hit its mark and the zombie fell to the floor. She leaned over and plunked the blade from its skull.

Darcy and another zombie had been trading blows like two lethal predators. Darcy pushed down with his weight, his hands on the walking dead's neck, pressing it to its knees, forcing the zombie backward. The zombie appeared battered, beaten.

Then the zombie kicked out a rotting leg, and Darcy staggered back, breathing hard. The zombie seized this opportunity to savagely plow into Darcy, knocking him off his feet and through the terrace doors.

Elizabeth ran to the doorway and leaned against it, her eyes searching for signs of Darcy or the zombie. She caught sight of them, brawling near the edge of the veranda.

"Aaarrgghh," the zombie said, hunger raging in the depths of its dead eyes.

Darcy withdrew a large dagger from his belt. His muscles knotted, his arms rigid, trying to hold off the zombie's mouth with one hand while trying to plunge the knife into its brains with the other. Darcy forced the walking dead backward with the knife pressed into his throat. The blade started to cut into his neck. Blood oozed from the gash. Darcy grunted and strained, teeth clenched, pushing the blade through muscle and bone.

Then the zombie smirked.

Elizabeth watched in horror as the zombie managed to knock the blade from Darcy's hand. It landed near her feet.

"I'm _not_ to be trifled with!" Darcy lunged at the zombie again.

Once again they traded deadly blows. After several minutes of attempting to get past Darcy's defenses, the zombie began to batter him, pounding his body into the ground, and Darcy began to fight for his life.

Elizabeth had to do something. She couldn't just let Darcy die.

The zombie leaned over Darcy in the grass, with his hands tightening around Darcy's throat, about to take its first bite. The zombie's face split into a grin of obscene pleasure. It licked its dry, cracked lips. Opened its mouth wider…

The world swam around her. Darcy was about to die. And five more zombies shuffled across the lawn. They had pale, greenish skin, and bloodstained clothes. Faces like cracked cement.

In an attempt to get free of the zombie, Darcy snarled, diving forward. The zombie caught him by his shoulders, sending him flying into the wall. Darcy slid down, dazed.

Elizabeth rushed forward to stab the zombie in the forehead. She managed to get the blade into its neck as the zombie squirmed away from her. But the walking dead recovered quickly, flinging Elizabeth backward onto her butt.

"It isn't polite to shove a lady," Darcy said, appearing behind the corpse.

The zombie whirled and took a swing at Darcy, but he ducked and landed a sucker punch in its stomach, doubling the corpse over.

"Take that walking dead scum!" Darcy plunged the dagger into the top of the zombie's head. Gore spattered everywhere. Twitching, the zombie collapsed at Darcy's feet.

The other five zombies shambled closer, arms outstretched and moaning.

Elizabeth jumped into the fight; slashing and stabbing at the zombies that charged forward.

A few minutes later, Darcy and Elizabeth had massacred the rest of the horde.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

Each person returned to the ballroom with the assurance that the walking dead had been slaughtered, and the musicians began playing a soothing waltz. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly. Elizabeth thrust Jane's knife into her drawstring purse. Just in case.

After a time, Darcy reentered the room and stood stiffly beside Bingley. Darcy had dressed in clean clothes, a soft linen, cutaway coat over his billowy, white shirt and red waistcoat, the hem resting against his tight breeches. His black hair had been neatly waved back from his forehead. No indication he'd been battling the dead only moments before. Elizabeth's own gown was ruined, splotches of blood had stained the bodice, and no amount of scrubbing would get them out. At least, she'd been able to wash her hands and face.

When Darcy's brown eyes found her green ones, he turned away, and marched through the terrace doors.

Curious, Elizabeth stepped outside, too. She stared into the night, watching the sliver of the moon glimmer over the landscape. Outlining the property, the towering oaks draped in moss, swayed in the cool breeze. She shivered, not sure if it was the wind making her cold, or being so close to Darcy.

His eyes searched the estate for lingering zombies. He had removed his coat and it rested on a stone bench. When he noticed her beside him, he grunted. "Go back inside, Miss Bennet, this is no place for a lady. There might be more walking dead lurking about."

"Oh, shush, Mr. Darcy," she replied. "I can handle a few zombies." _But not my churning emotions._

"Just leave me alone." Despite his words, his strong fingers suddenly wove into her hair and held her in place.

"No. You were very brave earlier, and I must thank you," she said boldly. She wasn't going anywhere and didn't want to. She raised her hands to his shoulders, touching them gently—almost hesitantly before tracing his jawline. "You cannot persuade me to depart, sir," she whispered, trembling with fear and desire.

The moment lasted for two heartbeats before Darcy groaned and seemed to give in to whatever inner-struggle he was fighting. He yanked her violently toward him and they met in their first kiss—primal, ferocious, and not a gentle kiss as Elizabeth had imagined. She couldn't breathe and didn't care. His mouth tasted sweet, his lips heated and forceful, and with that deep kiss, he might have been seeking to imprison her soul. And she wanted no less from him.

With a contemptuous growl, Elizabeth's chest was crushed to the length of his hard body. The tentative kiss turned to an insistent demand. Without reservation, she yielded to him. Her hands traveled up his muscular arms and over his wide shoulders, one hand resting on the thick cords of his neck, the other caressing the hard sinews of his back. When the warmth of his body surged through hers, a fierce electric thrill shot through her veins. Followed by a wild, fearful, foolish, excitement that controlled the senses.

He kissed a trail along her neck, causing her to sigh at the loss of his mouth. Then he nuzzled against her with kisses that licked at her body like flames. She raked her fingers through his hair before lowering to caress his shoulder blades, then his strong forearms.

Then she froze. Her breath hitched in her throat. _No, no, no!_

Her fingers had traced the size of a human bite on Darcy's arm. Their eyes met and he shook his head in horror and disbelief. He clutched the bite mark. His mouth dropped open to protest, but no words escaped.

Elizabeth sighed and backed away, yanking the bloody knife from her purse…


End file.
